RITA DREAMS AGAIN
I woke up feeling very confused. Things were even more mysterious as I realised that I was not in our familiar bedroom, and Jan was not lying by my side. I wondered what could have happened to me, and where I was. The room seemed to be very pleasant, in fact it could almost be described as luxurious, and the large bed I was lying in was extremely comfortable.
There was a tap on the door, and a beautiful blonde girl came in. She was statuesque, and her lovely hair swept down over her shoulders; she was wearing a delicious powder blue peignoir. She smiled at me: "Hello!" she said. She seemed very friendly indeed, but I was still confused, and wondered where on earth I was. "Hello," I replied; "where am I?" "I'll explain everything to you," she said; "you must be a new arrival." "I suppose so," I said, "since I don't recall being here before, and I really have no idea how I got here. My name's Rita." "I'm Jennifer," she said, "and I'm here to explain things to you. I'm afraid you won't be too happy when you hear where you are." Now I was beginning to get worried; I sat up, and swung my legs round to sit on the edge of the bed. I was wearing a sensuous nightdress, pink, with lovely ruffles and lace trim. My visitor came and sat down by my side, and put her arms round me in a sisterly hug; she kept one arm round me, and sat with her nylon clad thigh pressed against mine.
"I don't know what you remember," she said, "but you must have signed a paper before you arrived here." That rang a bell; I had a vague recollection of signing something after my sexual reassignment surgery -- I thought it was a release of some sort. "You signed a contract," she told me, "and the language was deliberately confusing and oblique; however, what you did was to commit yourself to working here for the same people that employ me, for the next three months. There are very severe penalty clauses, and they are not very nice people to get on the wrong side of." None of this made any sense to me; "What is their business?" I asked. "They would probably give a more sanitised name to it," she said, "but it is prostitution." "What!" "Yes, I'm afraid so. You have legally committed yourself to work in this business for the next three months, and you will be required to make yourself available for sex with any man who likes the look of you when he checks out those who are available." I was more confused than ever, now; "And I don't have any choice in the matter?" "No. They have manipulated things very cleverly legally, and breaking the contract you signed would be a worse fate than the one now in store."
"I have to be a prostitute?" "You do. Believe me, there's no choice; I got caught in exactly the same way." I still couldn't believe what I was hearing, but I began to worry about what would happen. My visitor hugged me again; "It won't be as bad as you think," she said. "The girls here are very nice, and there is a wonderful cameraderie; we all support one another, and that makes things better than they might be. It's also a very high class establishment; the clients who come here are high class too. They're not the nicest people one would hope to meet, and they can be aggressive sexually, but they won't mistreat you physically. They come here because they have particular interests, and it's a specialty of the house to cater to them." In spite of my worries, I got curious; "What particular interests?" "They are all men who like to have sex with women dressed in lingerie; many of them seem to be particularly turned on by girdles and stockings, and those are our normal 'working clothes'." "That doesn't bother me too much," I said, trying desperately to look on the bright side; "the fact is, I am very fond of those things myself. I love feminine things, and they have always struck me as being particularly feminine." "They are," she said; "I feel just the same way. I think that's how we got into this situation; I don't know how they found out, or how they managed to ensnare us all, but everyone here has just the same ideas about nice feminine things to wear."
"So what happens?" I asked. "Well, when the establishment is open for business, we all have to display ourselves in the lounge downstairs, appropriately dressed. The clients come in and look us over, and make their choice. It's demeaning, but we are expected to accept with good grace, and then take our partner to a private room to satisfy his desires, whatever they may be." Jennifer smiled at me, and hugged me again. It felt very reassuring and though I was very apprehensive about what she had told me, I did feel the sense of friendship and sisterhood. I hugged her back, and felt the keen pleasure of being a woman in the company of other women. "I don't seem to have much choice," I said, "and the thing that worries me the most is that I am not very experienced in dealing with the male of the species." "Don't worry about that," Jennifer said; "the problem is to submit to their wishes in dealing with you. Most of them simply want straightforward sex, and appreciate ogling us with our suspenders." "I think I can deal with that," I said; "but what about the clothes? I'm very vague about how I got here, and I don't know if I have any of my things with me." "That's one thing you certainly don't have to worry about; there's a store room, which has a fantastic selection, and we are free to go there and choose what we need. That's partly why I came to see you; I thought we might go there and find some things for you. Then we can try them on together." "I'd like that," I said.
She took me by the hand, and led me down the hallway; at the end was a door leading into a large room, laid out like a lingerie boutique. There was indeed a fantastic selection of every imaginable item there, and I began to think that things were not quite so bad after all. "What is it that you like particularly?" asked Jennifer. "Well," I said; "just about any nice feminine well-fitting foundation appeals to me, but I am particularly fond of corselettes." "Me, too; they're lovely to wear, aren't they?" We found a selection of exquisite black corselettes, power net with lacy trim and six suspenders. I took one in my size, and Jennifer selected one just the same. We went to look at the stockings, and I took two pairs in black. "What about panties?" I asked. "That's tricky, isn't it? They have to be removed, so I usually wear very brief ones, that are easily pulled down, though they get in the way then; the other option is to get frilly ornate ones, and wear them over the suspenders." "I think that's probably best, maybe in a really contrasting colour." I found some frilly ones in bright red, and decided they would be suitable. Jennifer seemed to share my tastes, and took some that were very similar, though in a more shocking pink shade. "Let's go back to your room," she said, "then I can show you where everything is."
We returned back to the room where I had originally found myself. "Let's try them on, now," said Jennifer. She took off the peignoir, and started to ease the folds of her nightdress over her head. I did the same, and soon we were both standing completely naked. She was a very beautiful woman, and I looked at her admiringly; I noticed that she was also giving me an inspection. "Forgive me," she said, "but you said that you didn't have much experience. That's hard to believe from someone as attractive as you are." "Thank you," I said. "I don't have much experience with men; my partner and I are very happy being women together." "I see," smiled Jennifer; "welcome to the club." She came over to hug me once again, and as our naked bodies clung together, I felt a thrill of sexual excitement go through me. Immediately I felt a pang of guilt; I wondered what had happened to Jan, and realised that I missed her very much. Jennifer picked up my reaction; "What's the matter?" "It's my partner," I said; "I wonder what has happened to her, and where she is." "I'm sure she's alright," Jennifer said, "but they will make sure that she can't communicate with you; I'm in the same position, and it's very upsetting." Realising that we were in the same boat seemed to justify seeking solace in one another's company, and I wrapped my arms round her again; we clung together.
"I think we better get dressed." said Jennifer eventually. She picked up her corselette and stepped into it, pulling it up over her body. She carefully arranged the shoulder straps, then started working her way up the hooks at the front. I followed her example, and found it quite thrilling to watch her; I had my usual sense of enjoyment as I felt the gentle constraint pulling me in, and seeing the process enacted simultaneously added to the enjoyment of the experience. We were soon zippered up, and standing side by side in our lacy black power net, with suspenders dangling over our thighs. I started to put on my stockings, always a tactile delight for me, and the essential femininity of the experience was enhanced by the sight of Jennifer easing her black nylons over her beautiful legs. I fastened my suspenders carefully, making sure they were properly in position, and felt the delicious smoothness of my stockings along with the subtle tension on the hem of my corselette. As always, I wallowed in the delicious feeling of femininity the process inevitably induced in me, and I found the sight of Jennifer stretching her suspenders across her thighs to meet the dark bands of her stocking tops stimulated me even more. She was looking at me too, and she smiled as our eyes met; "It really is a wonderful feeling, isn't it?" "It's one of the nicest things about being a woman," I said, though my mind was thinking back to the many occasions when I had enjoyed the experience before I had the body of a woman.
"Suspendered stockings look so nice, too," she said. "In a way I can understand why these men get so turned on by them. But I often wonder if they might not enjoy them the way we do; I have a sneaking suspicion that they secretly want to, and they get a vicarious thrill by seeing us." I wondered if she had been reading my mind, and for some reason decided to open up to her. "I know of one that did," I said. "I am a transsexual, and I only had my surgery a few years ago. Before that I was a male, of sorts, and I spent many happy evenings dressed just as I am now." "That's wonderful! I can understand the way you felt exactly, and it surprises me that more men don't want to experience the wonderful pleasures we have. But you're so feminine!" "Thank you," I said. "To me, that's a real compliment. I don't know whether I always was, but I certainly enjoyed the feeling of being feminine." Jennifer came over to me and hugged me again; it was a delicious feeling, to experience the companionship of another woman, and to feel our sensuous foundations pressed against one another. She caressed my thighs, and delicately fingered my suspenders; I found the effect very pleasant indeed, and I couldn't resist doing the same. We sat down side by side on the couch, and pressed our suspendered thighs against one another, with our hands still resting gently on one another's stocking tops.
I sat there, happy at one level, in spite of the strange circumstances I found myself in; it was a delicious feminine experience. We were wearing garments that to me were the epitome of femininity, and there was a wonderful feeling of companionship; it was underlined by the fact that we were both dressed in exactly the same way, and in such intimate feminine garments. I found my mind going back over my years of experience with garments such as these, and recalling how my fetishistic interest was the precursor to the awakening of real transgendered feelings in me. I felt very close to Jennifer at that moment, and I felt the urge to tell her more about myself. "These garments are a very powerful image for me," I said. "To me they epitomise femininity. I have always associated them with femininity, and in my early life they exerted a very strong fetishistic attraction; it was much later that I realised that I was transgendered, and had a strong desire to be feminine. These wonderful things were a just a symptom of my inner state, but they became symbols that still have significance." "I can understand that perfectly," said Jennifer; "that's what I really meant when I wondered about the attraction they have for men. They certainly turn on the ones that we meet here." "They turned me on," I said, "and they still do. The image of a beautiful woman in a well fitting girdle, with suspendered stockings, is the most powerful one I can imagine. But unlike the typical male response, mine was to experience an overpowering desire to wear the items myself. I now respond sexually as a woman, but I have exactly the same reaction. Looking at you now, I see a vision of loveliness -- it gives me an incredibly strong desire to appear just the same. If I wasn't wearing just the same things you are, I would really have problems." I stroked her thighs and suspenders in a gesture that expressed intimate companionship rather then eroticism.
Jennifer lightly moved her hands over the tops of my stockings, and lingered at each of the little bumps where the suspenders were attached. "It's not quite the same for me," she said. "I love wearing girdles, along with stockings and suspenders, and I certainly associate them with femininity, just as you do; but it's been part of my life ever since I grew up, so it doesn't have quite the same powerful effect. It is stimulating, though, and I still remember the delight of the 'rite of passage' when I graduated from girlhood and was able to wear a girdle and stockings for the first time. I think of them as feminine, and I enjoy feeling feminine; they are intimate garments too, and there is a special thrill when one shares the experience with another woman." "Do they excite you sexually?" I asked. "Yes, they do. There's no doubt that a nice tight girdle gives one a wonderful sexy feeling." "Does that help you in dealing with the amorous males?" "I think it does. As I said they're very intimate things, and in normal society they are hidden; exposing them is a way of giving special recognition to a person one is intimate with. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't choose to favour males in that way, but now I am required to do so, I find their response quite gratifying, and it helps me very much in dealing with the subsequent activities." "That's interesting," I said. "As I told you, I am relatively inexperienced with males, but in the few cases where I have had sex with them, they had a powerful interest in what I was wearing, and it certainly helped things along."
As Jennifer and I chatted together, we found more and more that we were very much in tune with one another, and without any specific suggestion from either one of us, we lay back on the bed, face to face, and caressed one another. It wasn't overtly sexual at all, though I felt a pleasant thrill of something more than simple companionship, and I felt certain that Jennifer was responding in much the same way. We lay there quietly talking for a long time; Jennifer told me a great deal about her young days, and her realisation that she was lesbian in orientation. She was very interested in my story, as a transsexual, and asked me a lot of questions about the process of transition. She had a wonderful empathy, and accepted me completely as a fellow woman; it was abundantly clear to her what the pleasures of being female, and feminine, were, and she accepted without question the idea that a male might very well aspire to the same state. "I understand what you did exactly," she said; "it seems so natural and logical. What I don't understand is why there aren't so many more like you." "Well it took me a long time to come to my conclusion," I said. "Though women's clothing had a fascination for me, and I couldn't resist the urge to wear it, the effects of testosterone are very powerful; very simply they generate an urge to be a penetrator, rather than to be penetrated. I didn't really sort things out for myself until the male equipment stopped working properly. You could put it this way: I was always attracted to feminine things -- for myself -- but identification of myself as feminine came quite late in the day. Once that happened I had a strong desire to be penetrated myself, and I wanted to submit to my partner and let her take control." Jennifer smiled wryly at me; "Well," she said, "I think you will experience penetration, and you will certainly be dealing with those who want to take control, but to my taste the circumstances leave much to be desired."
I had no idea what time it was, and had very little sense of time passing, but Jennifer suggested it was time for us to go and present ourselves to prospective customers. We both did a quick fix on our makeup and made sure our hair was arranged properly, then we went out wearing diaphonous negligees over our 'working' clothes. Jennifer took my hand and led me along the hallway, and down one flight of stairs. There was a very pleasant lounge there, with comfortable chairs and a bar along one wall. There were several of our companions sitting there, chatting to one another. Jennifer introduced me to them, and we took our seats. It was a strange scene: the surroundings resembled the lounge of a quiet high-class hotel, but the only people present were attractive ladies, wearing bras and girdles of various types, all with suspenders stretched across their thighs. It was a scene that would have driven me to a frenzy in my younger days, but fortunately I was dressed to rival any of my companions, so my instinctive desires were well satisfied.
After a few minutes of quiet conversation, the door opened and a couple of men came in. They looked at us with a feigned casual interest, and sat down at the bar. When their drinks were served they sat sideways so that could cast an eye over us. They were joined by a striking woman dressed, unlike the rest of us, in a beautiful evening dress; she was impeccably groomed and coiffed, and joined into a friendly conversation with the two men. From time to time they cast glances in our direction, and the topic of conversation was clearly related to us. Eventually some agreement was reached, and the madam, for that's what she was, came over to one of my companions and spoke quietly to her for a moment. The girl got up, and walked over to one of the men at the bar, greeting him with a friendly smile; he took her hand and they both went upstairs together. His companion remained at the bar, ordering another drink, and continued in conversation with the madam. There was a sense of unreality about the whole scene; it was fascinating to experience at first hand the ambience of the place. It was the sort of scene that one reads about, or sees in movies, and it hadn't quite registered with me that it was not only really happening, but that I was a participant.
After quite a long interval, the discussion at the bar came to a conclusion, and the madam got up and walked over to the corner where Jennifer and I were sitting. Suddenly things became very real, and I realised with a shock that it was me she was looking at. "Our client has decided he would like a private interview with you, Rita," she said. "You're new here, and this is your first engagement, but I think you understand what is required. Please listen to what is asked of you, and do whatever is necessary to satisfy your customer. You should be gratified that he has chosen you from the assembled beauties." I got up and followed her over to the man at the bar; I smiled at him and said "Hello." He gave me a good look over, and seemed pleased with what he saw, and got up from the barstool; he took my hand and led me over to the stairs. He was fairly young, well dressed, and seemed not unpleasant, though he did exude an air of masculine forcefulness. We went up the stairs, and along the corridor to the room I indicated. When we were inside, he shut the door and grabbed me in a forceful embrace. "You're cute," he said. He started to paw at my thighs, pulling at the suspenders; "I like the way you are dressed, too; it makes me want to fuck you." I wasn't quite sure how to react, and hoped that I wouldn't upset things, but I took a chance; "I'd like you to fuck me," I whispered."
He was obviously very interested in my suspenders and stocking tops, and moved his hands over them, toying with the stretched elastic. I decided to take the initiative, and undid his belt; he caught on and slipped his shoes off, so I followed through and unzippered his pants. I pulled them down, then his shorts, and revealed a very large penis; it was showing some signs of life but it was still flaccid. "Mmm, that looks good," I said, and started to caress it gently. He was evidently pleased with my attention, and even smiled at me, and as a result of my attention his cock started to stand up. He pushed me back onto the bed quite roughly, and looked down at me in eager anticipation; "I like to fuck girls wearing suspenders," he said, stating the obvious. "As I said, you're cute, and those things you are wearing make you look very sexy." I took that as a compliment, and having no other choice, lay back and relaxed. He continued fondling my thighs, and I started to experience some stirrings of excitement myself. His hands worked their way up to my frilly panties, and suddenly he grabbed them and pulled them down over my suspenders to my knees; I wriggled and lifted my legs so that he could complete his ritual unveiling, and then I spread my legs and lay back in readiness.
His cock was now standing upright, stiff and long, and without further comment he clambered onto the bed and settled in between my legs. He aimed his engorged weapon in the general direction of my vulva and then pushed himself forward, thrusting blindly. I took hold of his cock and directed it to my labia; it was none to soon, as his forceful thrust drove it right into me immediately. The experience wasn't pleasant, though my excitement built up as I felt the shaft slide along the walls of my vagina; I felt almost angry as I thought of what a wonderful pleasure it might have been, if he had used some finesse and helped me to get into the mood. He certainly wasn't about to do anything with finesse: the moment his large cock was driven home, he flopped down on top of me with all his weight, and started pumping away frantically. I felt as though I was being taken, and realised how apt that term could be, but the sheer brutality of the action was strangely exciting, and I wriggled under his weight, squeezing myself around his cock as best I could. He pumped away, and very soon it was all over; his cock pulsated violently inside me, and I felt the jet of semen spurt right into me. He grunted, and let his groin drop onto mine, adding to the weight I was supporting.
I found the experience quite exciting, but I didn't get close to orgasm myself, and felt quite frustrated -- also very uncomfortable. "You're a big strong man," I said; he seemed pleased by that, and said "That was very good; you are very good to fuck." I smiled sweetly at him, but decided not to make any comment. To my relief, he eventually rolled over, and lay by my side breathing heavily, and apparently contented. "My wife won't wear a girdle and stockings," he said; "she doesn't seem to understand how much it would turn me on, and how much fun we could have." I thought that maybe she understood only too well, but again I didn't say anything and caressed him. "At least you make up for it," he said; "you're really very good, and I'd like to have another session with you soon." "That would be my pleasure," I said, lying through my teeth. He seemed to have lost interest now that his orgasm was over with, and he soon got up and started to put his clothes back on. I started to get up too, but he motioned me to stay where I was; "I'll find my own way out," he said. As soon as he was dressed, he went out through the door, and I lay in the bed thinking over my experience.
Ever since my transition, I had been sexually interested primarily in other women, my wonderful partner Jan in particular. Things were so good for the two of us that we were neither of us interested in other partners, though on one or two occasions I had had sex with male partners. They were unusual events, and I had either been pushed into it by Jan's concern for getting me to have the full experience of a female, or it had happened as a result of games Jan and I were playing. All those men had been quite atypical, not at all macho, and I had found the experience exhilarating and rewarding. This evening had been very different; it wasn't unpleasant, and I didn't recoil in horror from it, but it was not the delightful and rewarding experience that sex usually was. The whole thing had been a depressing example of what many women had to put up with from their insensitive partners, and I realised how fortunate I had been. I got up and surveyed myself in the mirror; there didn't seem to be too much damage. After a quick brush of my hair, and a touch-up to my lipstick, I thought I looked as good as I had done before my recent skirmish. I started to put my panties back on, and became aware of the sticky fluid inside my vagina; that wasn't a problem I had very much experience dealing with, and I wasn't sure what to do short of immersing myself in the bathtub.
I took a look in the bathroom, and found a douche bag there; I filled it with warm water, and squirted it into me standing astride the toilet. I managed to do that without getting any water on my stockings, and I felt much fresher afterwards. It was probably time for me to return downstairs to see whether there would be any other business. When I got to the lounge there were three or four men sitting at the bar; they looked up curiously as I came in, but didn't seem unduly interested. I noticed that Jennifer wasn't there, so I assumed she had been selected too. I sat in a chair next to a beautiful blond girl, dressed in a beautiful white girdle and bra, with her fluffy peignoir carefully opened to reveal them. She smiled at me; "Things are not too busy this evening." "I'm new here," I said; "I don't really know whether that's good or bad." She laughed. "It's hard on us when it is very busy." "I can imagine," I said, "if there is too much of the kind of load that I just had to deal with. Are they all that heavy-handed?" "Some of them are quite sensitive," she said, "and there are even one or two that can't get it up; they just want someone to talk to. But most of them seem to just want to bang away, and then leave as soon as possible."
As were chatting together, I saw Jennifer coming down the stairs; she saw me and came over to sit next to us, making a wry face. "That was really rather gross," she said, "but how did you fare, Rita? It looks as though you survived your first encounter." "I did," I said. "It was quite heavy handed, but fairly quick; he didn't say too much, but he seemed to be satisfied with what happened. I didn't find it too unpleasant, but in a way it makes me feel sad; sex can be such a wonderful experience, but they seem to have reduced it to something akin to scratching an itch." Jennifer laughed; "That's the male of the species," she said; "most of them seem to want it like that. Oh oh ..." The madam was walking over towards us, and asked me to come with her. As we walked over to the bar, she said "See how you can deal with this one. He's young, and very shy; I suspect he's nervous too -- it may be his first time. If he goes away happy, and ready to return, then there will be a bonus for you."
I was intrigued now, and thought that this might be more in my line; it sounded as if it might be something like my experience with Jan's nephew Peter. The young man was hardly more than a boy, and looked very sheepish. "This is Rita," said the madam; "she'll be very helpful and understanding." I smiled at him, and gently took his hand. "Come along with me," I said; "we can relax together, and have a nice chat, and then I can show you some nice things to do." His face got a little brighter, but he still looked very nervous; I led him up the stairs and down the corridor to my room. Inside, with the door shut, I kissed him gently, and led him over to the bed. "I won't bite," I said, and I won't be unkind; take your time, and then tell me what you would like to do." He relaxed somewhat, and gave me an awkward smile; "You're very beautiful," he said. "Thank you; I'm glad you like what you see. Is there anything in particular that appeals to you?" He seemed embarrassed; "I don't really know," he said. "I just like looking at you, and what you are wearing." "You like what I'm wearing?" "Oh yes, seeing things like that really does something to me." "Things like what, for instance?" "Your stockings; they're beautifully sheer and smooth, and ..." This really began to sound like a replay of the episode with Peter, and I felt very good about it; I also thought I knew how to handle it. "Stockings are wonderful to wear," I said; "and I love the feel of the suspenders I wear to keep them nice and smooth; do you like them?" He seemed very interested, now; "Yes," he said. "I mean I like to see them." "Would you like to feel them? Sit close to me, then you can put your hand on my legs; I would like it if you did that." He didn't need too much encouragement, and reached over to my thigh, passing his hand gently over the top of my stocking. "That feels very nice," I said; "do you like the way it feels?" "Yes." "Then we must get ourselves comfortable, and you can feel all my suspenders." I lay back on the bed, and pulled him down by my side; then I turned to face him. "Please feel my suspenders," I said; "it would make me very happy." He pushed his hands between my legs, and explored my stocking tops, fingering the suspenders. As always, I found it quite a thrilling experience, and I found myself getting into a pleasant state of anticipation. I rolled back and forward a little, to assist him with his probing, and stroked his hands as they moved over me. "Do you like panties, too?" I asked. "Yes; they look very nice." "Would you like me to take them off?" He looked quite embarrassed at the suggestion, but blurted out "Yes."
I slowly pulled my panties down, manoeuvering them over my suspenders and stocking tops, then I pushed them off one leg with the other foot. I lay with my legs squeezed together, and smiled at him. "Now you can see all of my suspenders," I said, "and the nice corselette they are attached to. It has a wonderful sleek feeling round my hips. See how you like the feel of it." He touched one of my suspenders gingerly and moved his hand up to the hem of my corselette; he got a bit braver, and then he started to feel the power net material. "Do you like that?" I asked. "Yes." "You're quite free to explore what I have uncovered," I said; "I think that you aren't familiar with a woman's body, and this is a good time to learn something about it." He did start to move his hands down, and lightly fingered my pubes, but he didn't seem inclined to explore any further. I thought it was time to help him, and I opened my legs to expose myself completely. "That's what there is there," I said, "and you'll find that it provides a very nice place for you to put your cock when it gets ready." It wasn't ready, and I wasn't quite sure what his problem was. He certainly seemed interested in what he saw, but he continued to play with my suspenders, and carefully rubbed his hands over the dark bands at the tops of my stockings. "You really like my suspenders, don't you?" He nodded, and continued. "Is that all you like?" He looked at me awkwardly; "Well, no. But they're so nice, they really do things to me." "They do things to me, too," I said in a quiet confidential way; "they are wonderful things to wear -- the feeling is so feminine and sexy. There are men who like to wear them too; I can understand that -- I can see how much they might enjoy the feelings I have. Maybe you might like it; have you ever thought about wearing stockings and suspenders?" He looked quite taken aback, and gulped, and then I noticed a telltale bulge at the front of his pants. "Aha!" I thought to myself. "Another member of the club." I cradled him in my arms, and spoke very softly to him, as kindly as I could. "I think you really would like to try some stockings on, and I could help you fix them up with nice stretchy suspenders; would you like that?" He looked very embarrassed, but he nodded. "It's nothing to feel embarrassed about," I said; "a lot of men like them, and they get very stimulated by wearing them. I'll go and find some nice things for you to try, then we can relax quietly together and let you enjoy them." He found is voice at last; "That would be very nice," he said; "I have always wanted to see what they were like."
I left him, and went downstairs to the lounge and made a discreet signal to the madam; she came over to me, with a question in her look. "He's a CD," I said; "what he wants right now is to try on some stockings and suspenders, then he'll have the most intense orgasm of his young life." She smiled, with sudden understanding; "Oh, so that's the way it is. Go and get whatever you think he needs, and take care of him. It looks as though you may be qualified as a girl to handle some of our special interests." I quickly went upstairs to the store room; I picked out a pair of smoky black stockings in what I guessed would be the right size. I found a suspender belt made in stretchy power net, substantial enough to almost qualify as a girdle, and small enough that it would be a tight fit on him. As an afterthought, I also selected a pair of frilly panties, just like mine, and then went back to my room. The young man was sitting on the bed, and had obviously overcome his feelings to some degree; he had taken off his pants and shorts, and he looked up as I came in. "I found some things for you," I said; "I think they will fit you nicely, and I just know how wonderful they will feel."
He was still shy, but the power of his urge gave him the courage to face me. "This is a little girdle," I said, "almost small enough to be called a suspender belt, but it's nice and stretchy, so you'll feel it round your waist" I kneeled down in front of him, and he lifted up his feet; I slid the garment over them, and then pulled it up his legs until it was more or less in position around his waist. The suspenders dangled enticingly. "Now for the stockings; we must be very careful not to snag them." I bunched one of them up, and fitted it over his toes; then I carefully unrolled it, and pulled it up his leg. "You'll have to stand now." He did so, and I stretched the stocking up over his thigh. Fortunately I had got the size just right, and I had to tug the back suspender down just the right amount to attach it to the top of the stocking. He stood there, utterly bemused, and his cock started to distend, and was very soon standing stiffly upright. I was very tempted to give it some attention, but I thought that might divert him unnecessarily; I bunched up the second stocking, and placed his other foot into it; I repeated the procedure and soon had the back suspender fastened. Then I kneeled in front of him, with his engorged cock almost poking into my face, and carefully attached and adjusted the front suspenders. I stood up and put my arm round him; "There you are; now you're wearing stockings and suspenders just like me -- and all the beautiful girls here. Your legs look very nice, and I'm sure the feeling as just wonderful!" He didn't respond, but I could tell that he was utterly captivated, and his stiff hard cock demonstrated his feelings convincingly. I took his hand and walked him across the room; "Don't they feel wonderful as you move? It's one of the wonderful pleasures of being a girl; but of course you don't have to be a girl to enjoy it, you can just be happy feeling like one. Would you like to wear panties?" He nodded, so I took the frilly garment, and got him to step into it, one foot at a time; I pulled them up his legs, over his suspenders, and eased them very carefully over his erection. "They look very nice," I said; "they're so feminine."
He seemed almost overwhelmed by the sensations he was being subjected to, and I led him over to the bed and got him to lay down by my side. "Let's just lie together for a while, and enjoy the lovely things we're wearing." I put my arm round him, and snuggled close so that our stockings rubbed together. "Now it's up to you what you would like to do. You can push that lovely cock right inside me if you want, and we can have a wonderful fuck together; I could also take hold of it, and see what can be done to stimulate you that way. It's your choice, and if you prefer you can just lie here with me and enjoy the nice way your clothes feel." "I don't know," he said. "It's such a nice feeling; I think I'd like just to lie here with you." "I'd like that, too," I said; "let's get as close together as we can; it feels nice when our stockings rub together." I made sure that they did, and I rolled right up to him so that our suspenders were catching together. He was still wearing his shirt, but had nothing underneath, so I slowly unbuttoned it. Then I started to caress his chest, moving my palms gently over it. I decided to see what other triggers he had, and started to whisper to him: "It's a delicious feeling to wear these feminine clothes; the girdle is so snug and gently constraining, and the suspenders pull nicely on the stockings, keeping them feeling just right. It's wonderful to feel like a girl, isn't it?" As I spoke I started to finger his nipples, and I felt an immediate response. I began to caress them seriously, as I might have done with a female partner, and soon, though small, they were standing rigidly upright. "That feels nice, doesn't it?" I said. "It's another of the nice things about being a girl." His cock was straining now against the frilly material of his panties. "Do you feel like a girl? Would you like to be a girl? Would you like to wear a bra over these sensitive little boobs? Then you could try on a nice dress, too. You would look lovely with nice hair and your face properly made up too; would you like that?" He was obviously almost ready to come now, and he nodded in response. He was obviously responding to the feminine identification, so I carried on: "You're a very nice girl; you look very sexy in those nice stockings, with the suspenders stretched over your thighs. The way they disappear under your panties is very provocative, and it stimulates me; I'd like to pull those panties down, and see what there is hiding underneath them." He seemed to like the idea, so I eased them down very gently, and left a ruffle of frills round the tops of his stockings. "I like playing with nice girls, especially when they wear suspenders," I said, and I started to manipulate his cock very gently. It responded instantly, and I thought the time was come; I moistened my hand, and then started to manipulate his glans, fingering it first, and then squeezing. He lay back, completely overcome, so I started to grasp his shaft more firmly; I began to slide my hand to and fro, and tightened my grip as I worked away. "A sexy girl like you, needs someone to make love to her, and show her how nice it can be," I said. "You're such a pretty girl, wearing those nice clothes, I can't resist you." He couldn't resist any longer, either, and his orgasm came with spectacular force; his rigid cock pulsated in my hand, and his semen spurted into the air.
He gasped, and then lay back looking at me with a weak smile. "That was good, was it?" I asked, and he nodded. "I think you enjoy being a girl, don't you?" He looked a bit sheepish at the direct question, but finally said "Yes, I do. That was the most wonderful experience, and I love the feeling I get wearing these clothes." "Do you want to stay with them for a while?" "Yes, but I'm afraid they're messed up." "Don't worry about that; I'll wipe off most of it, and they can be washed; then we can keep them for you if you'd like." "I think I would," he said. "They have always done things to me, and I have often wondered what it would be like to wear them. It's a wonderful feeling." "I feel much the same," I said; "I have always enjoyed wearing feminine things, and I particularly like stockings and suspenders, and the nice firm constriction that I get from a good girdle. It's really quite comfortable, and if it fits properly it can be really pleasant." He was very interested in what I was saying, and quite impulsively said "I really envy you; it must be wonderful to wear things like that any time you want, and have a choice of different things." "It is indeed," I said; "and they feel wonderful under a nice slip and a pretty well-fitting dress."
He didn't say anything, but I could sense his desire to have that experience. I got a face-cloth and cleaned up the ejaculate that had fallen on his narrow girdle and the exposed flesh below it, then I pulled his panties up over his stocking tops, and into position around his waist, covering his now flaccid penis from view. I lay on the bed by his side, and cradled him in my arms; we snuggled together, and I found the way our stockings and suspenders rubbed together quite exciting. I felt a strong sense of empathy, and realised with a surprise that there were also maternal feelings being aroused in me; I was obviously reacting to his desires, so similar to those I had experienced, and his youth. "It's nice just to lie together and feel the wonderful clothes," I said. "Yes," he whispered; "I almost wish I could stay like this for ever." "Would you like to wear some other things, too?" "I really would, but maybe we should leave that for another time." "That's probably best," I agreed; "I'll look out some really nice things -- I think you might like a dress with a full skirt and some fluffy petticoats. I look forward to seeing you again." I hugged him fondly, and once again wondered about the strange empathy that attracted me to him.
Eventually he decided it was time for him to go, and he got up and took off his panties, and started to undo his suspenders. I moved to help him, but he said he could manage, and he would find his own way out. He took off his stockings, and pulled the girdle down, then clambered back into his own clothes. He smiled at me: "That was wonderful," he said. "You just stay there, as you are; you look so beautiful. I'll be back soon to see you again." He left, and I relaxed on the big bed; I gradually realised that I had been quite excited by his visit and his reactions, and began to feel just a little frustrated. I had spent most of the evening (I supposed it was evening) in sexual activity of a sort, but I had not really experienced any physical satisfaction myself. It also occurred to me that I was probably supposed to present myself downstairs for my next engagement. There was a tap on the door, and Jennifer came in.
"I don't know exactly what you did," she said, "but that young man went away very happy, and the madam is quite happy about your efforts. She sent me up to tell you that we both have the rest of the night off." Jennifer lay down on the bed by my side, and we brushed our legs and arms together in an easy relaxed way. "Things weren't as bad as I feared," I said, "but I finished up feeling just a little frustrated. I'm much happier with activities where both participants get some satisfaction." "I thought as much," she said, smiling; "I feel much the same way, too, and it did occur to me that we could console one another." Her caresses became more obviously sexual, and I found myself responding to them. I wanted her to bring me to a climax now, but I felt guilty about my desires, and worried about where Jan was. As Jennifer continued her love-making, I became more and more excited, and the mixed emotions I felt began to make me strangely confused. I was very hazy about where I was, and even who was with me; I began to think that it was my partner Jan that was using her consummate skills on me ...
It was Jan! I awoke out of a daze, and found myself back in familiar surroundings. I was stirring with sexual excitement, and Jan was making love to me as only she could. "Oh, Jan," I whispered, "it is you." She looked slightly puzzled, but didn't pause in her task, and it wasn't long before I had a wonderful climax.
I lay back feeling happy and very satisfied. Jan relaxed by my side, and snuggled close to me. "Who did you think it was?" she asked eventually. "It certainly wasn't you to start off with," I said. "I was dreaming, and it was somebody else who started to console me." "Oh? Who was it, and why did you need consoling?" "It was another of those crazy dreams," I said. "It doesn't seem real at all now, but by some mysterious chain of circumstances, I found myself captive in what turned out to be a fairly high class and genteel brothel. I made friends with another woman there, and she turned out to be lesbian; we were both somewhat dissatisfied with our professional experiences, and we were both pining for our inexplicably missing partners. I guess that drew us together." "I'll have to keep an eye on you," Jan kidded; "in your dreams at least you seem to be showing a somewhat fickle nature. But you've excited my curiosity; just what were your professional experiences?" "There were only two," I said, "and then you came to my rescue. The first one involved a somewhat heavy-handed guy who was turned on by what I was wearing and quite unceremoniously jumped on me and satisfied himself very quickly without too much concern for me at all. He did express appreciation, to be fair." "And what were you wearing?" "A lovely black corselette, with black stockings. It was required by the establishment." "But of course," Jan grinned; "I should have known. What about the other one?"
"That was much more interesting. He was very young, and shy, but he was also very much turned on by my outfit. After some preliminary physical contact, it became apparent that he was going to be even more turned on wearing a similar outfit himself. I was able to help him do that, and it brought out my empathy and maternal instincts; and we had a very nice time together chatting about the wonderful things girls wore, and how nice it was to wear them. He eventually responded in a most ungirlish way, but we continued the fascinating conversation." "That's interesting," said Jan. "It's almost like your first little session with Len. I don't have your background, as a transgendered male, but I think I would have reacted in a very similar way. To me there is something very appealing about males who aspire to the feminine." "I know, my love; that's just how you responded to me, and look where you eventually got me! I did feel a real sense of empathy for the young guy, and it started to get me excited, so I was feeling a little bit frustrated when he left. Just after that my friend came in; she was in a very similar state. We were both somewhat stimulated by our evening's activities, but had not been satisfied, and we were both uneasy about what had happened to our partners. We snuggled together to console one another, and I'm afraid events followed a rather inevitable course."
"Quite understandable under the circumstances," Jan said, winking. "Fortunately I have never got into worrying about where the imagery of dreams comes from," I said. "They obviously call up some familiar things from everyday life, but they also seem to juxtapose some quite strange things that don't relate to experience; I wouldn't want to try and analyse their significance. I will say, though, looking back over it, that the 'friend', Jennifer, had so much in common with you, that the image must have been based on you. She didn't look like you, but that's not unusual in my dreams; people from my real waking life often occur in them, and though I know who they are, they never resemble the reality at all."
The strong impressions left by the dream were fading fast, and all it left me with, now, was a renewed sense of happiness in the presence of my partner, Jan. I snuggled closer to her.